


Sleep

by Briar Rose (Byrcca)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s02e15 Threshold, F/M, Golden Oldies, Proto P/T
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 14:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19200718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Briar%20Rose
Summary: A little late-night coda to Threshold because, honestly, who can get enough of that ep?!





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Original Author’s Note: To Tornado Ann, who loves to see Tom twist. :) (though she’s not going to approve of my choice of cuss words). 
> 
> I don’t remember when I wrote this… at least two years ago. And I can’t remember if I’ve already posted this to the PTF. I’ve tweaked it recently, and even though the title sucks, I still love this story more than my others. Well, bits of it anyway. 
> 
> ~
> 
> Originally posted to the PTF in May 2006, so I guess I wrote it in 2004, which sounds right.
> 
> As I read through these old fics I’m struck! by! my! over use! of exclamation points!!! Sheesh. Such drama. I’m making a few modifications, but leaving the fics mostly intact. 
> 
> With apologies to Captain Acorn, but intregity of the old fic, etc.

~~~ 

He watched her sleep, noticed how her dark lashes feathered on her cheek, the way her hair fell against the sheets. Her arms were wound around her pillow and she hugged it tightly to her body like a stand-in lover. Occasionally her brow would crease, then relax and smooth. He wondered if she was dreaming of him. 

Fat chance. 

Tom closed his eyes and breathed, drawing deeply into his lungs the mixed scents of spice and warmth and Klingon incense. He dragged his fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling. It felt good, comforting. His sister was always fiddling with her hair, which pissed off their father. He’d called it a nervous tick but Tom knew the action for what it was: her way of gaining comfort through touch, even if she had to touch herself. 

He grinned and his eyes opened slowly. His hand jerked involuntarily, fisted in his lap. What would their father have thought of that particular brand of comfort? That kind of touch? At least Moira’s was within the bounds of public decency. 

He’d been thinking about his family a lot; couldn’t get them out of his head in fact. He remembered, he felt, that he’d seen them, seen everyone – everyone – but the images had slipped from his mind and the harder he tried to hang on to them, the less, it seemed, he could retain. God, he missed them: his parents, his sisters! And despite the fact that he couldn’t remember any details there had been something for him to see and that meant that they were okay. They were all alive. It would have to be enough. 

His eyes slid back to B’Elanna. She’d relaxed her grip on the pillow and rolled onto her back, and he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. You’re watching her breathing, he told himself sternly, not her breasts! Though… His eyes dipped downward. The blanket had dipped around her ribcage, and her arm fell over her body, the fingers of her left hand still maintaining contact with her pillow. Had anyone else ever watched her sleep, he wondered? Chakotay? Harry? An old lover, maybe? Didn’t seem likely. But still, Tom felt a tug of jealousy over some dashing, non-existent Maquis hero forever left behind in the Alpha Quadrant. 

His gaze roamed over her. She was wearing a loose brown t-shirt, and the red nightlights over her bed cast a ruby glow on the fabric transforming it to the colour of dried blood. His mouth twisted; high drama was Kathleen’s forte, not his. He’d always been the sensible one. Grounded. At least, he’d behaved that way around their father once he was old enough to realize the value in protecting his dreams. 

Flying had never been one of them. 

He released a slow breath and glanced back to B’Elanna. Her shirt had a wide neckline, and his eyes traced the planes and contours of her throat and collarbone to the rounded swell of her shoulder. The red light made her bronze skin shine rich and luminous in the darkened room. He ached to touch her, to see if she felt as soft and warm as she looked. It didn’t seem like a good idea, even to his addled mind. Especially considering he’d finally been released from sickbay. 

They’d never be friends, he conceded. Never be the pals that Harry wanted them to be. No easy camaraderie for the two of them. All or nothing, it had to be. He wanted her too much to settle for less. His eyes slid back to her chest, lightly rising and falling. Every day with every breath, he’d want her. No impulse for them – warp ten or bust! 

Why was he here? He could be – he had been – anywhere. Everywhere. So why was he here, in B’Elanna’s quarters? What the fuck did he think he was doing? He checked the clock on her bedside table. It was late, early. ‘O fuck early’ standard Starfleet time. He should leave before he did something stupid. He shifted in the chair, made to get up, but her voice stopped him. 

“Tom? Is that you?” 

“I’m sorry.” The apology sprang quickly to his lips. Damn. He’d meant – he’d thought he’d meant – to slip away before he woke her. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he’d intended. 

She sat up slowly, as if gauging him. She pulled up the blankets, then her hands disappeared under the covers, no doubt pulling down that t-shirt. “Are you alright?” 

Not, ‘What are you doing here?’ Not, ‘How did you get in?’ Not even, ‘Get the hell out before I call security!’ which was what he’d been expecting. 

Are you alright? “I’m fine.” He reconsidered, and then answered truthfully. “I don’t know.” He glanced around her shadowed quarters. Everything appeared fine. It always did. But, somehow it wasn’t fine. 

“Tom?” Her brow creased, the serenity she’d gained with sleep erased. She reached for something on the bedside table, and cupped it in her hand. It glinted with gold fire: her combadge. “Should I call sickbay? You can site to site –” 

“No! I –” He smiled again, half-heartedly. “I think I’ve had enough of sickbay for a while.” 

She smiled back, hesitant. Questioning. “Bad dreams?” 

How did she know? “Yeah.” 

“Well, I guess you can expect that after all you’ve been through. The changes after the flight. The flight itself; you went everywhere in the universe. That has to be hard on you.” 

“Funny, I was blaming Neelix’s coffee.” He smiled ruefully. Birth. Death. Sex. Torture. Fear. Joy. Pain. Sorrow. It was all there, and yet not. There were no emotions, just the images, the pictures, flickering through his mind like an old 2-D movie serial. Except instead of black and white it was in glorious Technicolor. 

“I wasn’t… it was more like they came to me. They flew at me, spun around me and I couldn’t touch anyone because there was only one of me, but I felt.” His voice trailed off; how was he supposed to explain to her that he felt like he was at the center of the universe? Like he ‘was’ the center of the universe? The other people existed because he existed. Yeah, Torres wouldn’t get any mileage out of that! 

She leaned toward him, eager. “What do you remember? The flight? Our working together in the mess hall? Ta – running off with the captain.” 

He glanced up at that. “I saw you in engineering. You were unconscious. I’d hurt you. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I’m glad.” 

She shifted, scooted her legs under her, and sat up straighter in the bed. He understood her sudden uneasiness. This was a pretty strange place to be having an even stranger conversation. He watched as she worried the blanket. 

“Did you talk about it? You were in sickbay for three days, so…I just thought...” 

“I really didn’t want…” his voice trailed off. “We had a sort of unspoken agreement that we weren’t going to discuss it.” 

She looked at him, looked away. 

Tom sighed. “Why did you do it?” His words were quiet. They came slowly. 

“I – I don’t… Do what?” 

She was clearly confused, and Tom realized that his mind was still jumping, still taking huge leaps and leaving logical conversation in the stellar dust. He tried again. “Warp ten. Was it because she made you? Or was it for the challenge? Or do you really want to get back there?” He couldn’t do it; couldn’t bring himself to call Earth ‘home’. 

“I… they’re counting on us. And the Maquis... ” Her voice trailed off, and Tom sat in the quiet, waiting. 

“It all seems so far away now. It’s like it’s all from a different lifetime.” She shrugged, and the collar of her shirt slipped, revealing a smooth, bronze shoulder. 

Tom closed his eyes, exhaled slowly. On nights like this, Auckland was a hell of a lot closer than he wanted it to be. “I begged her. She was going to pull me off the project, take the flight away from me, and I begged her not to do it.” He fisted his eyes; scrubbed them open. B’Elanna was looking at him, clearly not understanding. “There’s something wrong with my brain,” he explained with a derisive laugh. “The Doc was afraid something would go wrong.” 

“Tom.” 

“It got so fucked up,” he explained quietly. And as a result, as usual, Tom Paris had been fucked up the ass. He sighed. “‘Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.’ My mother used to say that. I didn’t really understand her, until now.” He shook his head, shook off B’Elanna’s concern. “I didn’t think I missed my family,” he said quietly. “But, God, I do! I can’t see them anymore, but I can…I can feel them.” He stared at her again. “Does that sound crazy?” 

“No.” 

Her eyes bored into his, and he tried to look away. She wanted something; had something to ask him. He shook his head quickly. “I don’t know!” he insisted. “About any of them Anyone. I can’t remember.” 

She scooted to the edge of the bed and laid a placating hand on his arm. Her palm was warm, soft, real. She was real, and he was here with her. He could know this, at least. She wasn’t just some image tugging at the back of his mind. Some fragment. He grasped her hand tightly in both of his. He was squeezing too hard, but he couldn’t seem to ease up. 

“It’s okay, Tom. Really. It’ll be okay.” 

He released her and stood so suddenly that she almost slid off the bed. “I should go. It’s late.” 

“I’ll comm Harry.” 

“No! I’m fine.” Bad enough that she should watch his little flight from reality; he didn’t need Harry to witness it, too. “I should go,” he repeated. 

“He won’t mind. He’ll walk you back.” She stood and put a hand on his arm again, restraining him. “It’s late, and…” She shrugged. 

He almost laughed out loud at that; it was fine for both him and Harry to be seen leaving her quarters in the middle of the night, but not him alone. Maybe there was hope yet. He shook his head, moved to the door. “He’s not naturally good-looking like us; he needs his beauty sleep. Don’t disturb him.” Christ. He’d tried to make it sound like a joke but he could hear the desperation in his voice. Could she? Maybe he wanted her to. “Don’t worry; I won’t let anyone see me leave.” 

She frowned at that, a quick flash of impatience. That was good, better. He could handle her anger; it was her concern that he found stifling. It made him want to fly away at warp… ten. 

He laughed. 

“This isn’t funny!” she railed on him. “You almost died! You did die! And this time, I was right there with you, egging you on.” She turned away, hugging herself tightly. Her t-shirt rode up her thighs, and Tom stared at the back of her long, smooth, toned legs. “You scared the hell out of me.” The last was said so quietly that he had to strain to hear her. 

“Well, it was no picnic for me, either,” he stated dryly. 

She spun to face him, her expression accusing. Her mouth opened as if she was about to say something, and Tom prepared himself for a verbal blast. Instead, she blew an exasperated breath and then turned away, scrubbing at her cheek as she paced toward the living room. 

Was she crying? Were those tears she’d tried to hide from him? He was floored. He didn’t think she could cry, didn’t think her physiology allowed it. She’d cried in front of him when they’d been held captive by the Vidiians, when she’d been fully human, but he’d always believed that her Klingon genes precluded tear ducts. Apparently not. He was brought up short. She was crying for him, because of him. It was astonishing! 

He felt a sense of wonder more powerful than the one he’d experienced flying at warp ten. That had been too big to really take in, but this. This was small, but enormous all at once. 

He moved toward her slowly, not sure how to comfort her but knowing that he had to try. He felt he owed her an apology. “I’m sorry.” It sounded piss-poor, even to him. He reached for her, lightly grasping her shoulder. She felt warm and solid through the soft fabric of her sleep shirt, and he had to fight the urge to pull her close and hang on to her. She was the one crying, but he felt like a small child awakened in the night by a bad dream. 

She stood motionless, staring at the floor, and he dropped his hand back to his side. “I should let you get back to sleep.” 

“Wait!” She turned back to him, reached for his arm to stop his retreat. She let go immediately. “I’ll never get back to sleep now. Why don’t I change into my uniform and we can grab some breakfast.” 

“I…” Tom didn’t know what to say. “I don’t think Neelix is awake yet.” 

“So, we’ll replicate something. It can be my treat.” 

He stared at her a moment, blew a breath. “Are you sure?” 

She nodded. “I have to be in engineering in a couple of hours, anyway. I was planning to go in early; Carey and I are working on using the warp ten shielding technology to improve performance in our nacelles.” 

“Just promise me you’re not trying for too much of an improvement.” 

She smiled crookedly and shook her head. “No. I don’t think a bunch of lizards could run a starship. No opposable thumbs.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll just be a minute.” 

Tom stood mutely as B’Elanna gathered up her boots and a clean uniform, and then slipped into the bathroom. He heard the sonic shower start, and he realized that he was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the bathroom door. He turned around and stared into her bedroom alcove instead. Her bed was rumpled, and more for something to do with his hands than for any other reason he began to smooth the blankets. He felt the tug of sleep then, strong and seductive. He would have loved to slip between the sheets and drift off surrounded by B’Elanna’s strength and scent. But he got the feeling that if she came out of the bathroom to find him snoring in her bed she wouldn’t be _kissing_ sleeping beauty awake! 

He reached for the pillow she’d hugged so tightly, and brought it to his face and inhaled. It was soft and cool and comforting, and it smelled like her. 

“Ready?” 

He hadn’t heard her come up behind him. Tom tossed the pillow with the others and turned. She looked fresh and professional, ready to go to work. She gestured to his baggy sweats and tee. 

“Do you want to stop by your quarters and change?” 

“I… I’m not on duty for another,” Tom glanced at the clock by her bed, “twenty-eight hours.” 

She shrugged. “Then you’ll do. So, are you up for a full breakfast?” 

“Maybe just some coffee. As long as it’s not ‘Paris Delight’,” Tom grimaced. 

“No thanks.” She shot him a grin and headed for the door. “Hey, I’ll even spring for raktajino, if that’s what you want.” 

“You know,” Tom said as he followed her out, “I’ve never understood how the fiercest warriors in the galaxy can drink such a _girlie_ coffee.” 

~*~


End file.
